


Breathe on me

by ColorfulStabwound



Series: There is a number of small things [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dancing, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Love, Lust, M/M, Mdma, Molly - Freeform, NYC, New York City, POV Second Person, Plaza Hotel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 18:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2318444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulStabwound/pseuds/ColorfulStabwound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Friday again and you know what that means. The boys are in NYC and Theodore is calling the shots tonight. Dancing, drug use, sex, and the Plaza hotel. Who could ask for anything more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe on me

**Author's Note:**

> This is my gift to my two favorite boys since we have been especially cruel to them lately. 
> 
> As always, much love and thanks to my writing partner, muse and friend, Unkissed, who's Theodore is the key to My Draco's lock.
> 
> You might spot my Dollhouse references in there again, because I still love that show and they are perfect for my boys.
> 
> For Theodore, you know who you are.

“You’re on my time, tonight.”

 

That’s what he says as he glances over his shoulder at you and you can’t help but watch in abject fascination at the way his lips curl at the corners and slowly tug his mouth into a smirk that you just _know_ means trouble.

 

It is Friday and you are in New York and he is right; you were indeed on _his_ time tonight. He’d patiently sat through six runway shows with you and had only cashed in on four of them, tonight’s festivities not withstanding.

 

“Let me guess, another opera?” You are lounging in a stately and expensive reproduction of a very posh antique chair from the twenties and you turn your head towards him just enough so that he can see the amused arch of a perfectly manicured brow.

 

You don’t really believe he’s taking you to the opera tonight. He’s been commandeering your time long enough for you to know that you never really could know _what_ to expect when Theodore was in charge.

 

And you fucking love it when Theodore is in charge.

 

“You’ll be singing arias from La Bohem by the time I’m finished with you, Malfoy.” And then he disappears into the bedroom, presumably to change.

 

You laugh quietly to yourself as you sit there, gently swirling the contents of the tumbler in your hand as you wait and ponder over where he might be taking you tonight. It was Friday, he was going to have to work extra _hard._ You don’t have to wait long for him and when he returns he pauses in the doorway for you to have a proper look at him. It’s probably a good thing that you are sitting down because the sight of him catches you completely off guard.

 

“Is that my..?” Your eyes move over him and he does a little twirl and even blows you a kiss; the cheeky bastard.

 

He’s wearing your navy Dior suit and of course it looks like it was fucking made for him because that’s half the charm of the damn suit. You’re tongue darts out of your mouth to wet your lips and you feel hungry in more ways than one.

 

“I’ll return it to its pristine glory when I’m finished with it.” He says and then he crosses the room to where you are sitting and straddles your lap before gently lowering himself down.

 

“You better.” You breathe as your free hand moves to rest on his waist. You tip your head back to peer up at him and he tilts his head and arches an amused brow at you.

 

“It looks better on me, doesn’t it? “ He’s fingering your silk tie with his bottom lip caught between his teeth and he’s moving just subtly enough in your lap to quicken your pulse.

 

When you say nothing he drops the tie and his fingers curl gently around your neck, forcing your head to the side. “Admit it.” He breathes in your ear and when his tongue traces the outer shell, you almost believe him.

 

 

“Evil.” Is your reply, which only makes him laugh in your ear and nip sharply at your lobe in response.

 

 

You would very much like to rip the bloody suit right off of him and shag him on the chair but you resist because this is what you bargained for to get here, so you let him have his fun and enjoy the ride.

 

His lips press against yours sweet like candy and when his tongue scrapes roughly over your teeth, you sigh softly and surrender everything to him.  He pulls back and leaves you panting and flushed and he smiles at you with kiss-swollen lips that practically beg to desecrate every surface of your body.

 

“Come on. We’re going out.” When he disengages himself from you the loss is instantly palpable and you bite down the frustration of semi-arousal because you know he’s doing it on purpose and you’d at least like to _try_ and retain a shred of your dignity; at least for a little while.

 

The entire ride in the lift to the lobby you are eyeing him up and down, unable to get over how fucking hot he looks in your suit. It’s not that you want him to conform to your style of dress; on the contrary, you are rather fond of his casual way of dressing himself and think it fits him perfectly. But sometimes, like tonight, you can’t get enough of him dripping in designer menswear and you are fairly certain he knows it.

 

When he leads you out of the Plaza, the night is cool and the light breeze on your face is a welcome distraction. You follow him into a cab and the entire ride you can’t keep your hands off of him, subtle or otherwise.

 

Theodore laughs playfully at you and shakes his head and it is longer than you expect before the cab finally stops at a location that looks like an industrial grouping near the water.  You raise a dubious brow as you slide out of the cab and wait for him to join you, and when you start walking towards the building you hear the faint thud of music and you begin to understand.

 

“You’re going to have to get me spectacularly fucking drunk before I’ll dance with you.” You eye him sidelong with a smug smirk and you think you’ve got his plans all figured out; but you’re wrong.

 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about the details, Malfoy.” He flashes you a sweet smile as his fingers close around a handle and yanks on the large metal door and the immediate rush of lights and sounds nearly knocks you over with its intensity.

 

He takes your hand and leads you into the dank darkness and you don’t think twice about it because you would follow him anywhere at all; even into the gates of hell.

 

There is so much smoke in the air that it makes every inch of the place look like it’s smothered in tangible shadows. When the lights move over the sea of bodies you don’t see individuals as much as a synchronized mass that you can appreciate for its beauty, on some level.

 

Theodore leans in very close and closes the pad of his thumb over your ear before he shouts “Wait right here.” And you nod and watch him as he disappears into the void. You lose sight of him quickly but it doesn’t stop you from watching still. Your chest is vibrating with every beat of the music that is swelling through the place and filling it until there is not an ounce of free space remaining. Your gaze moves over heads and swaying arms and you know beyond all shadows of doubt that there is no way in fucking hell that Theodore is going to coax you out there.

 

As if on cue he nudges your arm as he suddenly appears at your side and he presses a plastic bottle into one hand and grabs the other one. “Come on.” He shouts over the music although you don’t actually hear him. He leads you to the back of the room and up a flight of stairs to the balcony above. He sits you down in a chair and then re-claims his spot in your lap; just like he had back in your room at the plaza.

 

“If you get water spots on my suit I’ll be very upset.” You wrap a hand around the back of his neck and pull his head down closer to your mouth so he can hear you and when he raises it back, he’s smirking devilishly.  You can’t help but grin back at him and then you watch as he reaches a hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, his piercing gaze never leaving you. 

 

“Do you trust me?” He says and then he watches you carefully for your reaction.

 

“With my life.” You reply almost instantly and then he smiles and he’s practically glowing with warm approval.

 

“Open up and say ahhh.” He says after he kisses you and you do it because it’s not just lip service. You trust him more than you trust yourself.

 

He drops something small on your tongue that doesn’t feel like a pill so much as some sort of crumbled up paper.

 

“Rolling paper, just swallow it all.” He says, as if sensing the questions that you hadn’t even asked.  After rolling the thing around with your tongue you realize that it is powder twisted into a dissolvable pouch that you swallow whole. You watch him as he mirrors you and then uncaps his water bottle and takes a drink.

 

“Dare I ask?” You say and you arch a brow and wash the remnants of the mystery drug down with a swallow of water.

 

He shakes his head and then he throws his head back and laughs and you find that you don’t even actually care because you are together.

 

What you don’t know yet is that Theodore has just dosed you with Molly and in about thirty minutes or so it was going to kick in and relieve you of all of your inhibitions.

 

Theodore Nott was playing dirty.

 

It wasn’t as if the subject was taboo or off limits between you. You’d been crisscrossing across the globe with him for three years; there _were_ no limits. Every experience was mutually accepted and enjoyed to the fullest. That was what this entire thing was about with you, wasn’t it?

 

Living?

 

It’s about forty-five minutes later when the drugs actually kick in and after that, you lose all sense of time entirely.

 

You’re entire body is warm like you are standing in the middle of a fire and you’re throat is so dry that it feels like sandpaper. You can’t locate that bottle of water and for some reason you laugh about it because it’s really fucking funny, apparently. 

 

Theodore is still sitting on your lap and his fingers are carding through your hair, over and over and over. He’s transfixed by the softness of your hair and how it feels between his fingertips and when he finally manages to tear his gaze away from the top of your head he smiles down at you and he looks just like the little devil that he is.  

 

“Are we having fun yet?” He murmurs and then his fingers trace over your jaw and you tip your head back and sigh because it feels like heaven and you never want him to stop.

 

“Evil.” You say with your head hanging over the back of the chair and then you both laugh hysterically because everything is hilarious and nothing hurts.

 

His hands move over your button down like he’s trying to feel his way _through_ the fabric and when you raise your head to gaze at him he looks warm and fuzzy and you want to touch him back. Your fingers trace slowly over his clothed thighs and he shifts in your lap and the sudden friction pulls a gasp from you. When you look up at him he’s peering down at you from beneath dark lashes and you both smirk in exactly the same way at precisely the same time.

 

“Come on.” He says and then he’s clambering off of your lap and you frown because it feels like part of you has been violently ripped away from you. He holds out a hand and you take it and let him lead you back down the stairs to the massive void of bodies below. Somewhere in the back of your head you know what he is about to do and you feel like you should protest somehow; but then you get sidetracked on how warm his hand feels in yours and the way his energy seemed to flow vividly into you and vice versa via your clasped hands, and you forget all about your foolish protests.

 

In the middle of the dance floor you feel like a sardine packed in a tin of oil. You can practically taste the sweat of hundreds of other people and your suit will be ruined and you love it all. Theodore has released your hand and is now clutching your jacket as he grinds against you and you think it is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your entire fucking life. It doesn’t take very much prodding on his part before you actually start to dance because you feel like you can’t **not** dance; as if the music is commanding you to surrender to it’s beat like the slave that you are.  The world around you ceases to exist and you just dance and dance and you never once let go of him because every time he presses against you, you feel whole again.

 

It’s three hours later when you finally stumble out of the building, arm and arm with a very sweaty Theodore Nott who is wearing an extremely ruined version of your Dior suit. When you fall into the back of a cab you are a tangle of limbs and kisses and laughter and the cabbie watches you curiously in the rear view mirror the entire time.

 

The walk from the curb to the Fitzgerald suite takes forever because you keep stopping to touch things or to kiss and by the time you are fumbling with the lock of your door, Theodore is un-cinching the tie from around his neck and tossing it aside with an impatient huff. When you close the door and turn around he has successfully discarded his jacket and tie and unbuttoned his shirt. His exposed skin is like a beacon calling to you and you drop your keys and reach for him instead.  His head drops back like your fingertips on his chest are the best fucking thing he’s ever felt and something in the back of your mind wants to test that theory and bend it until it snaps in half.

 

You shrug your jacket off and quickly dispense of your tie before you grab at his parted shirt and tug it over his shoulders where it will fall to the ground; instantly forgotten. His mouth crashes against yours frantically and his tongue on your teeth feels so good that you want to die. He works the buttons of your shirt free at the same time and by the time you break apart, panting and gasping for air, you’ve got some skin exposed as well.

 

He assaults you immediately and his mouth and his hands roam all over your skin like it is the finest delicacy and your head drops to the side as a soft moan of approval escapes you. His kisses burn you like they never have before and there is literally a stinging pain beneath your skin that feels so good you never want him to stop. When he cups the nape of your neck and swallows you with another kiss your eyes flutter shut and you know that you really _are_ going to die.

 

Your mouth is moving over him with it’s own agenda in mind and you gasp for tiny slivers of air each time it comes away from him for a fraction of a second. Down the column of his throat you kiss and when you teeth find his collarbone he whimpers softly in approval and you grin against his skin. Your fingers are working the fastenings of his trousers and when you drop to your knees in front of him, you take them to the floor with you in one fluid movement.  Theodore’s fingers tangle in your hair and you peer up at him with a smirk twisting your lips and you think you rather enjoy the way he looks with his open mouth and curtain of dark hair.

 

“You didn’t have to drug me to get me naked.” You say with a small laugh as you reach up and wrap your hand around his freed erection.

 

Another soft whimper escapes him and you smirk smugly and feel like you are quite literally holding all the power. “Just wanted to dance.” He breathes and then he tugs on your hair sharply and you hiss out of habit even though the pain is abstract.

 

When you are sober you take your time when you suck him off, but tonight it’s all about eliciting as much mutual pleasure between you as possible. You _need_ to hear all those little noises he makes during sex and you _need_ to make him feel as good as possible because it makes you feel good.

 

And that is _not_ just because of the Molly.

 

Your tongue slides wetly over the tip of his cock like a lolly and later, if you can remember, you will find much amusement in this analogy. When your lips wrap around him the soft sigh of relief that escapes him nearly stops your heart and somehow gives you life.

 

This is way beyond the physical; you can feel it like a tangible presence all around you.

 

Your movements are concentrated and the firm and repeated nudge of his cock against the back of your throat is like slow motion torture concealed in pure, undiluted bliss. His fingers tighten in your hair and he shoves himself farther into your mouth and you let him because this is love and understanding and there are no limits between you. Ever.

 

It doesn’t take long at all before his tiny elicited whimpers become desperate cries of pleasure and he’s matching you thrust for thrust, fisting sweaty blond locks and fucking your mouth with so much love and intensity that it threatened to spill out into the room that sits stationary beyond your little world. Theodore’s orgasm rips out of him like a bolt of lightening and you are rewarded with so much more than the splash of warm seed that you swallow. 

 

Your entire body is tingling and you don’t even feel it when he fists your hair again tightly and brings you back to your feet so he can kiss you like it’s the end of the world. You are his nicotine, his liquor bottle and his ultimate drug of choice and his body is visibly shaking because he can taste himself all over your tongue and god damn it, he wants more.

 

Your hands are all over his skin and it feels like pure magic beneath your touch. Every part of you feels like you never want to stop touching him and kissing him and so you don’t; at least not for a while yet.  You’re walking him backwards to the bedroom and your lips scarcely manage to leave him the entire time. He’s still panting and clinging to you and a soft sigh of approval leaves his mouth when you drop him on the bed. 

 

“Hurry up.” He whines as you stand there, fumbling with your stupid fucking belt that doesn’t want to cooperate because your fingers are numb. When you finally manage to unbuckle your trousers, they come off much like Theodore’s did and you finally sink a knee onto the bed where you are instantly tugged down.  

 

“Don’t ever stop kissing me.” He says and your insides feel like they are splintering from the buildup. He feels like he is on fire and his hair is flattened against his head and you think he is the most edible and beautiful thing you’ve ever seen and it makes you want to cry because he is all for you.

 

When his fingertips graze over your erection you groan softly and deeply in your throat and your eyes flutter closed for just a moment and you just…breathe.

 

It doesn’t take long to get him going again; some lube and a couple of well placed fingers and he’s whimpering and whining and so flushed that you are nearly blind with lust. When you finally slide inside of his pliant form he blossoms like the sweetest succulent and you both cry out with a sense of completeness that makes your head spin. You want to tell him so many things. Your head is an endless loop of cognitive emotions and super imposed images that you cannot put to words. When you rest your hand on his chest above his heart he nods his head frantically and you know that the understanding that stretches between you like an invisible rubber band has transcended actual formed words.

 

When you pull out of him he cries out in protest and is instantly rendered silent and gasping as you plummet back inside of him with your head tipped back in pure sensation. The lines blur between and around you, and you have no real idea if you are fucking or making love because it feels like it’s on another level entirely.

 

And that _is_ because of the Molly.

 

 

There are no actual words exchanged between you, and the sounds of skin against skin fill the air that hangs thick with the scent of sex.  You have absolutely zero sense of time and space and you fuck like you never want to stop. When you finally reach your breaking point you bury yourself so deep inside of him that his cry of sweet agony sends you falling over an orgasm that is so intense that it blacks out your vision.

 

When you collapse on top of him you are breathless and on fire and he whispers nonsensical words that sound like love in your ear and you ride a high that you never want to come down from.

 

It is a long time before either of you move, and even then it’s only just enough to wrap up in one another and sleep it off. When you wake you are stiff and you ache and your bodies are stuck together with long cooled semen. His smile lights up your world and you come together in a sated and exhausted kiss that lingers sweetly.

 

“Fridays.” You murmur hoarsely as you pull him close and share a laugh.  His arms circle you and hold you and it feels better than any drug induced touch ever could because no matter where this crazy life takes you, he will always be there to help you sort out the pieces in the morning.


End file.
